Our Twisted Love
by live.inspired
Summary: My entries for Lieumon Week 2.0 happening over on tumblr...previously titled "Doomed From The Start"...
1. Chapter 1

_**Day 1: Spirit World**_

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A startled, shuddering gasp splits the silence.

A man, dark-skinned and powerfully built, thrashes in a pool of stagnant water. When he manages to find his feet, it is all he can do to stay on them. The world is shrouded in mist, creeping tendrils that snake across the turbulent surface of the shallow pond with a motion that conveys malice…darkness…a sharpness that anything born of water should not possess.

It frightens him.

But he is Noatak, the son of a notorious criminal, and he is Amon, the leader of the most successful anti-bender revolution to ever exist. He will not be frightened by some _fog_.

He gathers himself up, preparing to walk off and find out exactly where he is. The last he remembered, he was flying across Yue Bay in a speedboat with his brother. Then…nothing. There is a gap in his memory, between escaping and waking up here. Alone. Without his brother, though that does not bother him overmuch. His brother is still capable of betrayal. Come to think of it, Tarrlok probably drugged him and left him here in this…swamp. It explains the fantastical lights he watched burst before his eyes, the harsh qualities of the mist here, and…the light…the light suddenly appearing between his feet.

He staggers back, unsettled by this glow. It reminds him of a history lesson on the Siege of the North Pole, and how the Avatar embodied the Ocean Spirit La to destroy the invading Fire Nation troops. It was said that the water glowed extraordinarily blue, darker in some places, nearly white in others. It is how the water looks now: a single beam of light that reaches to the sky, seeming to extinguish all other illumination, shining brighter with every passing second. The liquid around the shaft of light starts to churn right before his eyes, forming a whirlpool that drags him closer, closer, with no intent on letting go.

It is now that Noatak remembers he is a waterbender, that he can manipulate the element that seems intent on bending him to its will. With an arrogant smile on his lips, he raises his arms and gracefully pushes against the air, expecting to be thrust backwards out of the roiling surf. It does not work.

Instead, he remains where he is, trapped by waves that are beginning to crash over his head, drenching him to the bone. His resolve breaks; there is something entirely unnatural about this whole place, and it makes him uneasy in the extreme. "Who's there?" he roars, tossing his head back and forth, trying to find the source of this bizarre spectacle.

Almost as if in response, the light pulses once and bursts, countless shards of light flying through the humid air. He throws an arm across his face and shouts as vision is streaked with white. When he has regained his sight, he sees that the mist has dissipated and the light has returned. Gnarled trees ring the small lake, their branches draped with gauzy curtains of moss. They are too densely packed for him to see very far, but it makes little difference to him. For at the far end of the lake, there stands a man that seems all too familiar.

A surprised cry passes Noatak's lips, and he surges through the water to the opposite shore. Never before has he been so elated to see the Lieutenant, for it is, without a doubt, the Lieutenant that is in the clearing as well. Noatak knows those long, slender limbs anywhere, knows that narrow face and shock of black hair.

"Rai!" he shouts, all official pretense and formalities long gone. The brief time he has spent in this place has been enough to make him reckless. He stumbles up the sandy bank to stand before the other man. "Rai, where in the name of the spirits are we?"

But the Lieutenant does not respond. Noatak clears his throat and straightens, adopting the figure of a man in command. "My apologies, Lieutenant. This swamp seems to have gotten the best of me. No matter; I have composed myself. Now, where are we? I believe my brother has drugged me and placed me here, wherever this is." He looks expectantly at the Lieutenant, waiting for the answer the Lieutenant is sure to readily provide. Still, not a word is spoken. In fact, the other man never blinks, never turns to look at Noatak. Uncertainty settles cold and hard in Noatak's stomach, and he stretches out a hand.

It passes straight through the Lieutenant's body.

A voice booms out then, loud yet soft at the same time. It is whispery, like wind over ice, but also deafening like snow thundering down a mountainside. "He cannot hear you, O Corrupted One. He cannot see you or feel you. Indeed, he does not know you are here."

Noatak's anger makes him bold. "And where is _here_, coward? Show yourself!"

"I am here," the voice responds. "All around you, in the trees, in the water, in the very air you breathe. As for where you are, is it not obvious? You are in the Spirit World, Corrupted One. You are dead, just as he is."

"And why should I believe you?" Noatak snarls, scanning the clearing for the source of the voice. He strives to maintain a semblance of self-confidence while his heart beats rapidly against his ribs. Something in the voice's words resonate deeply within him, though he tries to deny it. He cannot be dead. His Lieutenant cannot be dead either. Simply impossible.

The voice sighs, a sound like the hiss of the tide. "You know it to be true; I can feel your growing awareness. Your brother destroyed your boat, killing both you and himself. He thought it noble, considering all he and you had done. We thought it noble as well, and he rests peacefully now. But you, Corrupted One, you were not received well. Even the less benevolent of us were angered. You played spirit when it was not your place. For this, you must pay."

A rising sense of terror incapacitates the Water Tribe man. He is dead. His brother is dead. His Lieutenant is…

"Dead, too," the voice agrees. "Hung himself from the scaffolding of a warehouse."

A sudden influx of thoughts and feelings and memories washes over Noatak. Yearning, betrayal, pains both physical and emotional. Days hiding indoors, evenings speaking to crowds of hundreds, nights spent between the sheets. It's almost too much. Then the one voice he longs to hear cuts easily through the cacophony.

"I dedicated my life to you."

Noatak's blood runs cold as those words reverberate through his mind. They echo until nothing else is left, leaving him frozen, without control over his own body or mind. The moment passes with the sharp jerk of a rope made taut.

He falls to his knees, blinded by tears, choked by anger, numb with guilt.

"This shall be your punishment, Corrupted One. You shall relive the final moments of your one friend's life until we have deemed you worthy of reprieve. For the time being, know that you shall not be granted contact with this man. He was tainted by you, just as you tainted the sacred art of waterbending. So it is spoken, so shall it be." The voice fades into silence, leaving Noatak a huddled mass on the ground.

He crawls forwards, laying himself at the feet of his partner, his friend, his lover. He should have known better than to become attached. He should have never met this man, never gotten close, never fallen in—

Noatak howls, pounds his fist on the sand. "I'm sorry!" he sobs, feeling his heart wrench and his gut twist. Guilt. So much guilt. It shreds through his core, makes him regret _everything_, even though he swore he never would. "I did this to you! Me! I killed you, Rai! I killed you, but I loved you! You have to believe me, please! I loved-"

"I dedicated my life to you."

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**Rai is Japanese for "a trusting man; lightening or thunder"...how perfect for our Lieutenant?**

**-x-**

**A/N: And thus begins the second Lieumon Week... My sincerest apologies if it's just plain awful. This is my first official "Week" of anything, so...we'll see how it goes :) **

**I'd love a reviewwwww ;)**


	2. Chapter 2

_**Day 2: Trust**_

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Everything was shaking- his hands, his knees, his vision, his voice. Everything was unsteady, trembling, ceaselessly moving.

He didn't know how to feel, what to feel. Pleasure? Terror? Perhaps both? He wasn't sure. All he knew was that there were hot hands roaming across his chest, soft lips on his neck. His heart skipped a beat when he thought of whom those hands and lips belonged to.

"Lieu- Lieutenant…" he choked out, trying to regain composure but failing spectacularly.

The other man pulled back. "Sir?" His thin chest heaved as he lifted his blindfolded gaze to the face he'd never once seen unmasked.

Noatak's breath caught in his chest, and his words tangled in his mouth. His tongue worked mutely, trying to unscramble the request he had denied himself to ask for a long time.

"Noatak. Call me Noatak," he breathed at last, longing and trepidation mixing together so that the words came out like a pathetically hopeful question. He wanted this so bad, to hear his real name pass his lover's lips, shouted in ecstasy, whispered hoarsely. Too many times they had done this, tangled their sheets and limbs but not tangled _themselves_, their true _selves._ It sounded ridiculous in his mind, but it was true. He had told himself he would not engage in any personal relationships, would not allow himself to develop any sort of attachment towards anyone. Well, that was shot to hell now, and he would be damned if he didn't get everything he needed out of this.

"Noatak," Rai murmured, smiling at how utterly foreign the name was. He stood, tracing his hands carefully over Noatak's torso, along the curve of his neck, cupping his strong jaw. "Noatak," he repeated, his lips barely a hairsbreadth from the other man's skin.

"Are you angry? That I never told you before?" Spirits damn him; his voice was still shaking, still soft, still…weak. Why would he even ask? He blamed it on the saké they drank at dinner, but he knew the truth. He suspected Rai knew, too.

"No," Rai answered, pushing Noatak down onto the bed slowly. His fingers ghosted over the dark skin he could not see, light and teasing and hinting at _things_ to come. "I trust you had your reasons."

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**A/N: The first remotely smutty fic I submit and it's about middle-aged cartoon characters. Whoops no shame**


	3. Chapter 3

_**Day 3: Crossover**_

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Everything was silent, save for the raindrops dripping from the ceiling into a tin bucket already half full of water. The room was sparsely furnished; a narrow cot pushed against one wall, a rickety table near the bed, piled high with books. A single candle guttered on the windowsill every time a draft washed by, and a small fire seemed to toss more shadows on the walls than light.

A man sat on the cot, nose-deep in a thick, leather-bound tome. He took a deep breath then began to read aloud, his voice- deep and smooth like honey- cutting effortlessly through the damp air.

"The general quickly discovered that the young man proved to be the army's most valuable asset. Impressionable and single-minded, he could easily be molded into whatever kind of person his superiors needed him to be. He trained his body, but never his mind, making him no more than a powerful machine, an instrument incapable of forming his own opinions or questioning truth. He was, in every way, the perfect soldier."

Every letter seemed to roll off his tongue with something extra, something more than just emotion. Power. His words held power, hanging in the air far longer than they should, weaving a picture so vivid, it was almost as if the man in the story were standing before him.

And then suddenly, he was.

A tall young man stood in the middle of the room, blinking rapidly in confusion. "What the…Where the hell am I?!" He spun around, his impeccably shined boots squeaking slightly on the worn floorboards.

The man on the bed had already set down his book and tied on a hard cloth mask. He did not seem surprised that a man had appeared in his room without warning; in fact, he seemed very pleased. Standing, he stepped towards the young soldier, rolling back his shoulders and straightening to full height.

"My name is Amon," he said, coming to a halt in front of the other man. "General Shing has reassigned you to work for me now. He believes your talents will be put to better use here. Do you have any objections?"

The soldier furrowed his brow for a moment, his lips parted as though he were thinking of challenging the statement. He seemed to think better of it, and, snapping his heels together with an impressive _clack_, he stood at attention. "Sir, yes, sir!"

Amon smirked beneath his mask. _The perfect soldier. _

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**A/N: Woo ****_Inkheart_**** crossover~ I was just thinking of how Amon was such a great public speaker, and how he sort of has a "silver tongue," and well, if you know ****_Inkheart_****, you'll get it. If you don't, a character who can read people out of books is named Silvertongue.**


	4. Chapter 4

**_Day 4: Red_**

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Red is the color of his lies.

Red is the color of the banners that hang with the impressive magnificence of austere simplicity.

Red is the color of the twisted scar he has learned to paint so skillfully across his face.

Red is the color of the blood he manipulates with ease, bowing some to his will, stripping others of their abusive powers.

Sometimes, red makes him feel guilty.

Overwhelmingly guilty.

But.

Red is also the color of their passion.

Red is the color of the wine they drink, late at night when they are alone.

Red is the color of the single rose he finds one morning on his pillow.

Red is the color of their cheeks when they cannot find their breath between kisses.

Sometimes, red makes him feel loved.

Extraordinarily loved.

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**A/N: Happy Valentine's Day 3** **I think the Lieutenant and Amon could actually be a pretty cute couple...and for some reason, I see the Lieutenant as being a really romantic guy.**


	5. Chapter 5

**_Day 5: Family_**

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By the time the Lieutenant arrived at his apartment, the moon was beginning to dip below the horizon, the stars were fading, and the cool light of dawn was stealing over the decrepit buildings that slouched over streets dotted with potholes. In other words, it was either far too late or far too early for the Lieutenant to be awake. He didn't really care about the particulars, because both choices were equally abhorrent.

So when he opened the door to find the narrow hallway lined with candles, it was only natural that he cursed wearily and trudged across the floor, calling, "Noatak, I am not in the mood for this. I'm going to bed and not waking up until the stars come out again."

"How will I entertain myself, then?" The sudden low voice in his ear made him jump out of his skin, habitually reaching for the electrified kali sticks that were no longer sheathed on his back. Spinning on the balls of his feet, he found Noatak standing with nothing but a towel slung low on his hips. All the blood that was in his head keeping him awake promptly rushed downwards, leaving him hot and mute.

"Of course, I could if I _had_ to," Noatak went on, fingers drifting idly over the cheap fabric. "But first, something serious."

The tone of his voice changed in an instant. At first deep and sultry, it was now softer and more hesitant. It still held that captivating quality, though, the one that made the masses _listen,_ made the Lieutenant himself listen so many years ago.

The Lieutenant licked his lips. "Go on."

Rather than speak, though, Noatak held out a small carved wooden box. Taking it warily, the Lieutenant smoothed his fingers over the surface, feeling the minute ridges that crisscrossed the wood. His eyes met Noatak's only briefly, but in that moment, the Lieutenant felt an undeniable anxiety, as though he needed to open that box immediately and find out what was inside. So he did.

Nestled in white velvet was a blue satin choker that glimmered faintly in the candlelight. A flat disc about the size of the pad of his thumb was set carefully on the necklace. At closer observation, the disc was a moonstone, carved carefully and polished to a shine. Despite it being a necklace, there was a certain masculinity to it; perhaps it was in the sharply carved lines of the Republic City emblem on the stone, or even the simplicity of the shapes. Whatever it was, the Lieutenant felt compelled to stare at it, to feel the stone and the satin, to know that rough and smooth could exist as one so perfectly.

Noatak cleared his throat, cocking his head at the other man. "I don't expect you to wear it, but I'd like you to have it all the same. It's a betrothal necklace… I know we can't marry, but I…" He paused, staring intently at the floor with a furrowed brow and a frown. "What I'm trying to say is… I want to…" The pause dragged on.

"You want to marry. Symbolically. Become a family in all but law." His mind was whirring a million miles a minute, but he somehow found himself able to speak. He felt dizzy, like his head was floating somewhere above the clouds while his body was left behind.

"Yes." Noatak breathed a sigh of relief, inexplicably pleased that the Lieutenant had understood his foolish ramblings. "Yes, I want to marry you. When the laws change someday, we can make if official. But right now… Right now, this is what we can do….Rai, will you marry me?"

The words send the Lieutenant reeling, even though he already knew it was coming. "Yes, Noa," he breathed. "Yes." A brilliant smile broke over his tired face as Noatak kissed him, whispered _I love you_ over his skin. Now he felt as though his entire body was floating, too wrapped up in love and Noatak and happiness to stay on the ground. He was no longer tired- how could he be? -but he pulled away and walked towards the bedroom. At the other man's confused look, he replied, "Didn't you say you needed some entertainment?"

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**A/N: Sorry it's late :( And sorry it's not so great :( ...I didn't mean for that to rhyme. **


	6. Chapter 6

**_Day 6: Know_**

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Bombs had been dropped. The United Forces were in disarray. The Avatar ran away.

Republic City had fallen.

This, they knew.

The last airbenders were captured. Bending had been taken. Oppression had been relieved.

The Equalists had won.

This, they knew.

The victory rally was in the morning. Word was spread through the streets. Tonight was for celebration.

Their collective efforts had paid off.

This, they knew.

Gentle caresses were traded in the dark. Declarations of love were whispered reverently. Sweet nothings were punctuated by breathy moans.

Amon and the Lieutenant were only complete when together.

This, they knew.

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**A/N: If you couldn't tell, I like to play around with writing styles... I hope this one worked out?**


	7. Chapter 7

**_Day 7: Republic City_**

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The gleaming city that stretches before him is unlike anything he has ever seen before. A young man of twenty-one, he grew up surrounded by monolithic banks of snow and huts made of animal skins stretched taut and stitched together with coarse, fibrous thread. There is nothing of the sort here, among the buildings of glass, stone, and steel that reach towards the sky with sharp fingers.

His first stop is a rather seedy bar, with the intent to listen to the struggles of downtrodden men, to see whether this metropolis is capable of feeding his dream. And what he hears encourages him.

"Damn firebenders, putting me out of a job! Did you hear they're building another plant down by the bay? Spirits, would I hate to be the one who has to tell Shou he's being replaced!"

"Hell, those waterbending healers are worse! They all overcharge for their _miracle cures_ and everyone knows it, but they still won't come to a _real_ doctor! Bah!"

"The earthbending gang out west is the worst of them all," a voice says quietly. He jumps, tugging on the hood that keeps his face in shadow. Satisfied he cannot be seen, he turns to look at the visitor. It is a man, perhaps a year or two younger than himself, with a narrow face and bright grey eyes. The visitor extends his hand, gazing curiously at the hood. "I'm Rai."

"Amon," the hooded man replies, shaking the younger man's hand. "What were you saying about earthbenders?"

"Ah, right! There's a gang of earthbenders out west that have been holding up trains. They damage the tracks, see, by pulling up the ground beneath the rail ties. Usually the conductors notice the damage early enough to stop safely. The earthbenders get on, take what they want, and run. But sometimes, the conductors aren't so attentive. Then, the trains derail." Rai's slender fingers clench tightly around the glass bottle of saké he's been nursing.

"I take it you aren't fond of benders, then?" Amon questions, working to keep the excitement from his voice. He is encouraged- oh, yes, very encouraged. This city is presented as a place for people of all nations to coexist, and they do…but that is no longer the issue. It is bender versus non-bender, with versus without, powerful versus powerless. But they won't remain powerless for much longer.

"Why would I be?" Rai growls, glaring at the wooden countertop of the bar. "They've done nothing but take…from me, and from all these men here!" His voice rises as he speaks in order to be heard over the loud cheers. "Shou is going to lose his job to firebenders! Ling is losing patients to waterbenders!" His voice lowers to a sharp whisper, and Amon leans in closer to hear him. "And I lost my family to the earthbenders out west. Their train derailed. They were left to die, all seven of them. And they did. They all died."

"My apologies for your loss," Amon murmurs, his words nearly lost in the din. "I too lost my family to the tyranny of benders." He pauses, regarding the other man from the safety of his hood. With a grim smile, he notes that the look in Rai's eyes is much like the look in his own; there is deep sadness, but it is nearly overshadowed by the flare of anger, the spark of determination that burns without rest. It is now that he decides to make his offer. "If you are willing," he begins, carefully schooling his voice to keep the man hanging on his every word, "I would like to speak with you about a…_project_ I am interested in pursuing…a sort of _dream_, if you will. The benders of this city- and the rest of the world, as well- are far too controlling over us non-benders. I intend to correct that injustice."

"W-what do you have in mind?" Rai asks, sounding apprehensive yet eager all at once.

"It's quite a long story, and one not meant to be overheard. Perhaps we could take this somewhere else?"

Rai jumps up immediately, dropping a few crumpled Yuans onto the counter and sliding them over to the bartender. "My apartment isn't far away," he says, jerking a thumb over his shoulder. "We could go there."

With a solemn nod, Amon stands and follows the other man through the unfamiliar streets, barely listening to him chatter on. He starts when Rai addresses him directly "…but it's pretty clear you're not from around here. Am I right?"

Not trusting himself to speak, Amon nods again. Irrational panic begins to flood his system. He imagines he's been caught, that this man is actually a police officer, bringing him to the station for sedition. So many months of travel and training, all gone to waste. He's confident he could beat the man in a fight, but he doesn't want to. He doesn't want to be run out of this city, and he doesn't want to hurt Rai. This stranger is young, eager, bright, and Amon is drawn to him like a moth.

Instead, Rai startles him by letting out a bark of laughter. "Well, welcome to Republic City, then!"

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**A/N: It's done! Hurrah! Thanks for all the views, lovely readers :) Hope you liked it! **


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